Circulation
by AGriffinWriter
Summary: A one-shot, smutty conclusion to 'Pangs' (Thanksgiving, Season 4). Prompted by an unofficial challenge on the Spuffy fanfiction site Elysian Fields for Buffy to tease Spike like a dog after Thanksgiving dinner. Rated M for language, blood-play, and sexy-times.


**_Buffy the Vampire Slayer _****belong to a really creative TV guy named Joss Whedon. He owns everything, even Spike's delectable ass. Therefore, I claim nothing but my own sordid imagination.**

**Circulation**  
_By AGriffinWriter_

_A/N: Picks up right at the last line of 'Pangs'. Special thanks to Laurence Quill for the idea prompt/challenge and also to juggler and EllieRose101 for extra encouragement. DISCLAIMER (per TieDyeJackson): Side-effects may include redness, workplace embarrassment, and the urge to splash one's face with cold water.  
_

* * *

Spike couldn't help but break into raucous laughter. The look on the Slayer's face when the whelp mentioned the skulking appearance of her ex-honey was just too funny. She looked like she might break into hives.

"_Angel_?" spluttered Buffy. "Angel was here? When? Where? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"He, um, was concerned about–"

"_You_ knew too?" she interrupted her Watcher, shocked. "All of you knew he was here?"

"Uh… yeah," Willow mumbled guiltily.

"Stop that!" Buffy turned on Spike, who just shook his head, continuing to chortle. Glaring, she stood up and started grabbing empty plates and dishes with unnecessary force.

"I'll keep mockin' you 'till you feed me, Slayer," Spike threatened.

"I'll gag you."

"Mmm, should've known the Chosen One likes playin' a little rough." He licked his lips, his chuckles turning teasingly sinister.

The flat was silent for about ten long seconds, and then everyone who wasn't tied down in their chairs started to move rapidly.

"I…. think I'm gonna go back to the dorm and uh… homework," Willow remarked, sounding flustered. "See ya, Buffy. Happy Thanksgiving!"

"Bye!"

"We're also going to leave, now that Xander's syphilis has cleared up and we can have sex," Anya announced to the room.

"Uh, perhaps, um, you ought to go to the medical clinic before… erm…" Giles couldn't quite finish his piece of advice by the time Xander and Anya hauled themselves out of their chairs and scrambled for the door right behind Willow. "Yes… well… I'm sure they'll be safe."

"Hey, Slayer?" snickered Spike as Giles took his small glass of Scotch up to his bedroom, leaving them alone together. "What's green and eats your friend's nuts?"

"You are gross and perverted," she scoffed, scouring the plates at the sink.

"And _hungry_," he reminded petulantly. "Isn't there any gravy left? Or bones?"

Sucking the marrow out of the turkey bones wouldn't exactly be dignified… but he'd love to watch the Slayer's face while he did it, see if it got her all hot and bothered to watch his tongue…

_Now where the bloody hell did THAT thought come from?_

"Yeah, there's gravy," muttered Buffy, sorting through the leftovers.

"Can I have it?" Spike demanded, forgetting to laugh. The tempting series of thoughts now flickering rapidly through his head had blotted out his former plan completely. If he played his cards right, Buffy Summers would be offering him Slayer blood straight from the tap before the night was through.

A few seconds later, Buffy flounced back into the dining room carrying the tureen of gravy and a large spoon.

"Do you want it? You want the gravy, Spike?"

Her eyes sparkled with her taunting, and Spike realized she was trying to imitate the way an owner might toy with a dog. He growled in response, flashing just a hint of bright, sharp canines, then let his tongue loll against his lower lip while he nodded.

Wearing an almost vindictive expression, Buffy scooped a little of the gravy up with a spoon and then brought it towards his mouth… just out of reach. Spike craned his neck, glowering at the Slayer while he attempted to catch the offered treat. But she had the better of him, and after half a minute of licking at the empty air, he chose another tactic.

He put on his best attempt at beseeching, puppy-dog eyes, curved his mouth into a mistreated pout, and whispered, "Please?"

"Good boy, Spike," smirked Buffy, finally moving the spoon within access of his tongue.

And _then_, he gave her a show. He lapped the contents out of the well of the spoon and then licked excessively up the handle, slurping it clean. The taste was bland and the mixture was likely too overcooked to be of any healing use to him, but he didn't care. He tongue-fucked the spoon, never taking his eyes away from Buffy's widening ones.

He expected her to snort in disgust and storm away… or perhaps to shudder as though she'd witnessed something putrid and decaying.

What he _didn't_ expect was for Buffy to yank the spoon out of his mouth, straddle his lap, and slam her hot lips against his cool ones. Her hands gripped his hair and his t-shirt collar, drawing her as close as possible, the chair creaking in protest at their combined weight and jerking movement. She mauled his mouth as though trying to turn his tongue inside out, and he was almost too shocked to reciprocate. His hands floundered for a moment or two before locking around her slender thighs, pulling her even closer.

"I hate you," she hissed against his cheek as she kissed and nibbled her way to his ear. "I hate you so much. You are very, very evil… and _god_, I can't believe I'm doing this. I _really_ need to get off. You and your evil, evil, tempting tongue…"

"Untie me," he begged, keening slightly as her lips traced the shell of his ear. "Fuck, Summers!"

"Shh! If Giles hears us–"

"He won't. He's in a ruddy turkey coma already. Get the ropes off. Please…"

"Mmm, but I _like_ you all tied up, Spike."

"Bloody knew it."

Her green eyes bright with mischief and desire, she bit his earlobe, wresting a whimper of need out of his throat, and then moved back to his lips. He couldn't help the tiger-like purring noises of contentment rumbling up from inside his chest as her mouth assaulted him, and Buffy giggled when she noticed it.

"Mmm… you big kitty."

"_You're_ the kitty," he countered, his hands exploring as much as the ropes around his biceps and chest allowed him to. "Kitty… kitty… hot, wet, tight kitty…"

She grazed her teeth over his lower lip. "Shut up."

"Got other uses for my tongue, have you?"

"Oh, yes."

"Gotta untie me first, baby."

"No."

"I can't bite you. Not unless you say pretty please. And I _know_ you will…" Escaping her kisses, he slid his mouth down her throat and nibbled very lightly. She mewled with arousal, proving his point.

"You… are going to do… whatever I say…" Buffy whispered between gasps.

"Fuck, yes, Slayer…"

"You don't get anything in return unless I say so."

"Yes…" he gasped, and his hands found what he'd been hunting for – the front button of her slacks. Popping it open and forcing his hand inside, he worked a finger against her lacy underwear, and Buffy arched into him, almost overtopping the chair.

"Bathroom," she shuddered. "The door locks."

"Untie me, Buffy," Spike pleaded.

At last she nodded, scrambled off his lap, and rushed into the kitchen for a knife. In a few short seconds his arms were free to wrap around her. He bent her back over the dining table, kissing her frantically, grinding against her, tugging the clip out of her hair so it fell free.

"In the bathroom!" she hissed, locking her hand around his throat and squeezing warningly. He choked, and his eyes blackened with lust.

"Slayer _does_ like to play rough," he purred, seizing his duster off the coat rack as they moved in bits and starts towards the bathroom, stopping every couple seconds for another heated, violent kiss, teeth clashing, tongues stroking.

"You haven't seen anything yet," smirked Buffy. "Oh, damn, you had _better_ be as big as you feel, Spike."

"God, you've been dyin' for a proper lay, haven't you, baby?"

"You have _no_ idea."

The instant they managed to get the bathroom door closed and locked, he slammed her against it, almost enough to lift her off the ground. An intense electric bolt shot through his head, and Buffy grinned at the sight of his wince.

"Mmm… bad Spikey. So…" She bit his lip again and tugged it until he groaned, "very… bad. Get on your knees."

He nearly came just from her demand. Dropping immediately to his knees, he tossed his duster onto the floor, anchored his hands on her hips, and started pulling her slacks down with his teeth. Her fingers dove into his hair as though to drill holes in his skull.

"Ohhh god, you're an animal…"

"Nothin' personal, Summers," he grinned up at her, eyes glinting deviously. "Jus' can't wait to get a taste of my third Slayer." He licked her hipbone, and Buffy let out a moan, her knees shaking against his chest as he removed her shoes.

"I n-need to lie down," she gasped.

"Why do you think I brought m' duster?" Spike smirked, finally succeeding in getting her black pants down to her ankles. He nuzzled his nose against her lace panties and breathed deep, planting a kiss on the wet splotch rapidly growing damper. "Lie down, Slayer."

"_I'm_ giving the orders!" hissed Buffy, tightening her grip on the handfuls of his bleached hair.

"Mmmm… as long as you're orderin' me to drink up your hot nectar until you say stop…"

"You… are so… evil…"

"An' you're _delicious_," he rasped, squirming his tongue beneath the side of her underwear and along her labia.

Buffy mewled again. "Let me lie down first."

"M'kay," he groaned, sitting down and letting his head thunk against the wood of the door while she moved past him. Her scent was so strong he thought he was suffocating, even though he had no need to breathe.

"Spike?"

Her voice was softer this time… but drenched in power, his Slayer dominatrix. He turned to look at her, and his demon surged up like a living thing inside his skull, clawing at the inside of his forehead in an attempt to break free. Buffy lay on his duster in just her off-the-shoulder shirt and panties, propped up on her elbows with her knees spread, offering him the best view in the universe.

"Shirt off," she ordered, her eyes hard, as though she didn't feel a thing, as though she could stand up and walk away without batting an eyelash, leave him to stew in his obviously intense arousal.

Still on his knees, he stripped, yanking the red silk shirt off his shoulders and then tugging the black tee over his head. His stomach was a little bruised from some of the Initiative's sadistic games, and his ribs a bit more prominent, but he doubted she would notice. Buffy's gaze travelled up and down his naked torso while he tugged off his boots, and then she gave a little smirk, tossing her hair.

"You'll do, I guess. For an evil dead guy."

He chuckled, his hands sliding down his chest, giving his Slayer a wicked little show, tracing angles of hard muscle until he reached his hipbones and the button of his jeans.

"No," said Buffy, her eyes still baiting him.

"No?" His cock was straining against the tight denim, painfully hard.

"No," she repeated. "Lip service first."

"Mmmm… no complaints here, baby. Could make a man drunk off that scent of yours."

"Less talking, more… you know."

"Eating?" Spike laughed as he lay on his stomach and maneuvered between her legs, kissing from her knee down her inner thigh. "Tsk, tsk, such a demanding little kitten. You don't fancy these, do you, Slayer?"

Waiting until her brows twitched with comprehension, he clamped his teeth on her lace undies and tore them neatly down the center.

"Spike!" she pouted. "I liked those."

"Too late. They were in the way," he smirked, propping her knees over his shoulders, her bare heels immediately digging against his back. His tongue swiped from her fleshy mound, across her clit, and along the tasty treat he was so eager to devour, and then back up.

"Ohhh, do that again…"

"Ever had a man go down on you before?" Spike asked before his brain could filter out the comment. He doubted the soulful ponce had treated his girl right, and the selfish human git for whom Buffy had spread her dimpled knees was even less likely to have given good foreplay.

"N-no…" whispered Buffy, and for the first moment since she'd jumped him, her eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt.

Well… he couldn't very well have _that_.

He bent his head to her sex, closed his lips around her nubbin, and suckled it, rubbing circles with the tip of his tongue. Buffy keened, clenching his hair with one hand while the other seized a fistful of leather sleeve lying on the cool tile.

"Don't bruise the leather," he mumbled around his mouthful of her sweet flesh.

"It's – ohh! – only _you_ I plan on bruising."

"Bloody fuck, Buffy…"

One palm flat on her belly, he spread her lips with his thumb and forefinger and lapped up the wetness within, flicking his tongue against her clit with every stroke.

"Spike… Spike… oh, yes…" she babbled, her back arching as she rubbed herself against his face.

He nibbled at the swollen pink pearl begging for his attention, and was delighted to find that his chip didn't retaliate.

"_Spike_… oh, you _bad_ boy…"

Still licking and suckling at her clit, he slid his middle finger up inside her as high as it would go and curled it back, hunting for her sweet spot. Buffy's shrill moans filled his ears.

"Right there, there, there, Spike, _Spike_!"

Both her hands gripped his hair now, pinning him against her. He thrust his finger inside her, matching the rhythm of her bouncing hips, but his mouth strayed to one of the soft tanned thighs clamping on his head. _If her blood tastes anything like her hot juices…_

"More!" she hissed, her fingers scratching at his scalp, yanking his head back down to her sex.

Growling, Spike slid his tongue up inside where his finger had been stroking, and Buffy squealed in sudden ecstasy. Her whole body went tense for a second, shivered, and then relaxed, a long moan escaping her throat. Spike drank up her release, relishing her flavor like it was aged wine.

"Ohhh… you bastard…"

"Mm, an' you liked it, pretty pet," he snickered, lifting his head to kiss her navel. "How many times do you want to come before I'm allowed to bite you?"

"_Times?_" she shrieked, raising her head. "There are… _times_?"

"Oh sweet, innocent Slayer," chuckled Spike, swishing the tip of his tongue against her nub while his finger resumed its pumping in and out of her slit. "You really do need a proper shagging. I'm gonna eat you out until you can't remember your own name… jus' mine."

Buffy lay back against his duster and moaned, squirming her sweat-slick curves against the leather. Spike almost erupted in his jeans at the sight.

"You're torturin' me, Summers…"

"Good," she grinned. "Now get back to work."

Grumbling to himself, he slid his hands underneath her ass and rocked her hips, devouring her with suckling lips and nipping teeth and serpentine tongue. Buffy's thrashing feet rammed hard against his back, bestowing the bruises she'd promised, and her fingers kneaded his hair, turning it into messy spikes and knotted curls. She whimpered his name at the ceiling.

"This… is so… wrong…"

"But so good," he whispered, lapping up the creamy fluid from between her petals. He thought he could feel the heat pooling in her belly, ready to burst again. "That's it, baby. Come for me…"

"I-I'm giving th-the orders," Buffy insisted, but Spike and her body had other plans.

When he nibbled on her clit again, she threw back her head and ground her sex against his eager mouth, her thighs squeezing his head before they started trembling too much to maintain their grip. A sharp little gasp signaled her climax, and then she sagged against the floor, moaning in contentment.

"So good…" she echoed him. "But you're still a sick deviant."

"You're welcome, baby," Spike sniggered, kissing across her drenched folds. "You're so tight… Would've thought no one'd had the honor of poppin' your little cherry."

"Hate to disappoint," she shrugged, eyes closed, smiling.

"Wanna bite you, Buffy," he groaned huskily, slicking up the warm skin of her inner thigh with his tongue. "When you come again. It won't hurt. _Please_…"

Her lids lifted, blazing jade gems staring him down for several long moments, until she nodded and slid them shut again, relaxing. Moaning in surprise, Spike nuzzled his tongue between her folds and suckled her. Part of him wondered if he really _was_ drunk on her Slayer nectar, but the rest of him didn't care. His cock ached mercilessly, trapped between his stomach and the rough denim, but he just poured his dissatisfied groans into her heated core.

He was gentler this time, keeping his teeth in check, just swirling his tongue up and down, tracing patterns against her bud while he slid two fingers slowly in and out of her soaking heat. Her hands played in his hair, squeezing when he pushed his fingers inside her, smoothing his curls back when he withdrew.

"Close," she gasped, her voice a desperate whimper. "_Oh_ _Spike_… _yes_…"

The second he heard his name on her lips, he donned his vampire ridges, curled his fingers against that magic spot on her inner walls, and pricked his fangs into the twitching flesh of her thigh, just barely deep enough to taste her blood. _No pain_…

Buffy's mouth opened in a silent scream of pure pleasure, and clear fluid gushed over his hand as he suckled at her muscle, swallowing sweet mouthfuls of power. He felt strength rushing back into his tired, bruised limbs like fire coursing down his veins, and his erection grew even harder.

Spike licked the bites closed and kissed her shaking skin while he slowly removed his fingers from her pulsing core. He suckled them clean of her juices, and Buffy watched, giggling lightly.

"Mmm, that should _not_ be sexy."

"But is it?" he grinned, drawing one of her hands down from his hair and sucking her middle finger into his mouth.

"Strangely… it is," she smiled back at him. Before he knew what was happening, she had sat up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and moaned against his mouth, her tongue peeping between his lips to sample her own taste. His hands slid down her back and dipped beneath her shirt, locating the clasp of her bra. He released it and followed the loosened band around until he could cup her breasts in his palms, thumbs tweaking her nipples.

"Spike," she whimpered, no doubt at the coolness of his hands on her sensitive skin.

He'd got what he wanted from her – dinner and a show – so why didn't he stop her from rolling him over onto his back? Why didn't he shun her panting, nibbling kisses all along his face and chest? Of course, it didn't help his resistance when Buffy unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, then gave an appreciative moan at the sight of his proud cock.

"You are _definitely_ not human," she smirked, shimmying his jeans down off his legs before skimming her palms back up. She cradled his balls in her warm fingers, rolling and squeezing them slightly, and Spike groaned a blend of garbled curse words, arching his hips against her hand.

"Slayer, _please_…"

"Put your hands over your head," Buffy snapped as she tossed his pants aside and stood over him. "And keep them there."

"I can't touch you?" he asked, more disappointment evident in his voice than he'd meant to show. He still hadn't managed to get her shirt off.

"Maybe. If you're a good boy."

Smirking up at his vixen Slayer, he raised his arms and dutifully anchored both his hands on one of the legs of the bathtub.

"Good Spikey…" Buffy teased, pursing her lips as she surveyed him, spread naked beneath her. Straddling him and leaning over his chest, she bit his nipple, and Spike swore at the top of his lungs.

"Fuck me! Fuck me, Slayer. Please! Oh please!"

"Shhhh," she smirked, licking at his other nipple while her fingertips swept teasingly up his clenched biceps, no doubt trying to tickle him. "You'll wake Giles up from his turkey coma."

Clenching his jaw, he groaned, squirming until he felt her wet heat against his throbbing cock, coating him in her essence.

"Buffy, please… _please_…"

Her hips responded to him, rotating slightly, slicking him up. She gave a tiny gasp as the head of his cock pressed against her clit. Eyes opening, Buffy stared down at him, her hair falling in golden waves around her slightly sweaty face.

"This… this is meaningless," she whispered, her eyes gazing into him as though trying to x-ray his brain. "Just… getting off."

"Yeah," he murmured, and then pushed up inside her, groaning at the tightness and excruciating heat of her slit. Buffy gasped, her nails biting into the skin of his chest as she arched down, forcing herself lower, burying his cock inside her.

"_Buffy_…"

"You're… so hard… Ohhh…"

"Mm," he moaned, "I knew it. I knew the only thing better than killin' a Slayer would be fuckin' one…"

"I should be _so_ turned off by you saying that," Buffy laughed to herself. "But… I'm not." She raised her hips, then slowly impaled herself on his cock again. "Mmmmmm. Must be your big ego."

"My _ego_?" he snorted. "That's what you're callin' it?"

Smirking, she squeezed him, her inner muscles clenching tightly enough to make Spike howl in painful pleasure.

"Oh, nevermind. Call it whatever you like," he gasped.

"What would you do if I let you use your hands?" she asked mischievously, bending over him again and teasing his lips with her warm breath, her mouth just slightly out of reach.

"Touch you," he answered between groans. "_Everywhere_…"

"Well… you can't. Not yet. And you – ohh! – you can't come until I give you permission."

"_Buffy_," he growled desperately, lifting his head from the tile but always falling short of her taunting lips. "Bloody hell…"

She giggled, sliding her hands into his hair once more before she took pity on him and lowered her lips against his. Their tongues mingled with a shared groan, and Buffy's hips rolled faster, squeezing him with every plunge.

"You're so fuckin' hot, Slayer. Burnin' me up…"

"Funny. You don't feel cold. Just a little warmish."

Pulling away from his mouth, she brushed her lips across his cheekbones, his eyelids, the skin across his brow that masked the demon within. Her hands slid up and down his arms, both tender and sensual, her fingers molding themselves to his tense muscles.

The vampire… at the utter mercy of the Slayer…

"Buffy… _please_, Buffy…"

"You can touch me now," she granted his plea, smiling against his open mouth.

Moaning, he released the bathtub's leg and groped her shirt, tugging the collar down so that her breasts spilled free for his eager gaze. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, and her fingers slid under his shoulders, anchoring herself to him, more leverage for her hips to rock against him.

"_Spike_… don't stop…"

"Never…"

Her movement grew more frantic, her moans more needy, and Spike tugged her shirt off completely so he had better access to rove his lips across her sweet skin. Her soft keening was a holy choir in his ears.

"Come for me, Buffy…" he begged, knowing he would succumb soon, whether she gave permission or not. He pulled her close, her soft warm chest against his solid, cool one, and kissed her as though he loved her…

Spike felt the frantic squeezing of her inner walls around his cock before her moan of release made its way to her throat, and he thrust up against her tightness, pumped and pumped… and then slumped flat against his duster, spent. Buffy collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily against his throat.

He wasn't sure if they slept, or just lay together, catching their breath at a matching tempo. Their only movement was when Buffy slid herself off his softening cock and he grabbed at the towel hanging over the lip of the bathtub and draped it over her so she wouldn't get cold.

"Mm… we got… _us_… all over your coat."

"Mmhmm," he nuzzled her hair with his nose and lips. "Why do you think I brought it?"

He felt her smile, and they stilled again, merely holding each other, as though the reality of their immortal hatred was locked beyond the bathroom door with the rest of the outside world.

"My leg doesn't hurt at all," she said, a greatly-delayed afterthought. "The bite."

"I told you it wouldn't."

"And… it didn't hurt _you_? The chip?"

"Not a twinge," he purred.

A sudden noise from outside the bathroom made both of them freeze stock-still.

"_Buffy, are you still here?_" Giles called out in the darkness of the rest of the flat._ "It appears that Spike cut himself free and escaped_!"

She giggled into the muscles of his chest, and Spike snorted his own chuckles against her forehead.

"That's… um, terrible!" she managed to call out once her snickering had slightly subsided.

"Are you in the loo, Buffy?" asked Giles.

"Yes!" she replied, while Spike bit his lip to stop from howling with laugher. "Way too much pie. I'm okay! Go back upstairs!"

"Are you quite sure you're alright? What should be done about Spike?"

"Well… he's obviously, uh, hungry… _and naked_," Buffy whispered, nibbling his ear before continuing. "He's probably just… gone home to Harmony."

"Indeed," replied Giles, who from the sound of his voice now seemed to be standing directly on the other side of the bathroom door. "Well, um… I do hope you're feeling better."

"Much – mm! – better!" she squeaked, muffling a yelp when Spike pinched her nipple. "Go to bed, Giles! I'll be fine!"

"Very well. Goodnight, Buffy."

"Goodnight!"

They both heard the Watcher's footsteps ascending the apartment's stairs, and they relaxed against each other, laughing quietly again.

"You, um… aren't really going to go back to Harmony, are you?" Buffy asked.

"Hell no," Spike groaned, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. "Her only asset is her ass, and apparently she's come over all independent since I got the mickey taken out of me by Agent Fuckhead Finn and his mates."

Buffy's brows quirked up. "Did you say _Finn_? What's he look like?"

"Tall, big shoulders, all-natural grain-fed," Spike shrugged. "Rather bland, all in all. He and his squad were the ones who tazered me an' had some nice laughs in their lab. I heard one of his mates call him Agent Finn, seemed to be the boss of the lot."

"I… I know a guy whose last name is Finn," whispered Buffy, her eyes still abnormally wide. "Riley Finn. He's, um, my Psych TA. I… I thought he was cute. Kinda." Her eyes slid down Spike's body… landing on the darker bruises she hadn't inflicted, on the faint lines of healing stitches still visible just below his navel. "Yikes. Looks like I escaped major wiggage."

"You think he was cozyin' up to you to get under your guard? Haul you in and muck about in your head too?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he didn't know I'm different."

"What kind of oblivious twit wouldn't notice that you're different, Summers?" grinned Spike, pressing his lips to her brow.

"That's either a compliment or an insult… and they kinda look the same on you."

"Compliment, baby," he grinned. He wrapped an arm around her, skimming his knuckles up and down her spine. "So… was I better than that coed-seducin' wanker?"

"A whole _league_ better," she sighed, absently tracing a fingertip along a scratch mark she'd clawed into his chest.

"Better than Angel?"

Buffy flushed pink and tried to turn away before he could see it.

"Oooh, that's bloody hard to admit, isn't it, cutie?" Spike smirked. "I'm a better lay than your over-gelled lover boy."

"Y'know, for someone who practically plasters their hair to their skull..." she hinted, coiling her fingers into his tangled curls, "you sure are a hypocrite."

"But a _sexy_ hypocrite."

"A sexy hypocrite," she conceded. "Hm. I guess I was right."

" 'Bout what, kitten?"

"Something I said to Giles earlier. I said… I like my evil like I like my men… _evil_."

"I'm evil, as you repeatedly reminded me while you were ridin' my cock."

She slapped his chest, blushing again, and he smirked, drawing her close. It was several more peaceful minutes before he really realized what she'd said.

"You… you like me, Slayer?"

"I guess so. How wrong is that?"

"Oh, _dreadfully_ wrong, pet. They'll send you to Slayer Obedience School for sure, mark my words."

"As long as I can bring you… on a leash."

"Mmm. You plannin' on keepin' me, Slayer?"

"I think I might. It's not like you have anywhere else _to_ go," she teased. "Poor stray vampire."

He gave her the pout and kicked-puppy eyes again, and she giggled, caressing his kiss-swollen lips with her fingertip.

"Definitely keeping you."

* * *

_The End._


End file.
